


fake

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fake Relationship, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, dhrfavorites demanded a trope fic, did this instead, dramione - Freeform, sigh, so instead I skived off my english project and
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-04 11:38:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5332784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a new law in the works at the Wizengamot, and Hermione's going to use the power of the populace to stop it. All she needs is a certain citizen's help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> For day 5 of #dhrfavorites or dhrfaves on tumblr. I would have just posted this there except I started doubting that plan when this hit 2000 words.

 

_[December 4th, 1998 4pm]_

Hermione walked purposefully down the street, not one that someone like her would typically be expected to be on. Her bright cheery red coat stood out against the dark colors of the houses lining the streetwalk that seemed to loom over the street. Even with the knowledge that it is just after noon the street has the atmosphere of being late evening. Hermione deliberately avoids the bright lettering of the graffiti on the sloped steps she walks up.

She knocks twice, hard, and then keeps her eyes focused on the peeling green of the door. The wait outside seems to take forever before she hears the relieving sounds of someone moving inside the house. She shivers, despite her feeling warm with nervousness.

She feels an odd sense of overwhelming release when the door opens, and she musters up a realistic fake smile at the wizard in front of her. He is stunned, she can see that clearly on his face, and she takes a moment to let it sink in that it was her before she clears her throat.

“Granger?” He says first, and then there’s a pause, one so long she’s about to break before he opens his gab again. He ruffles up his hair and does a routine of shaking his head and blinking a few times. “I’m hallucinating aren’t it? I knew I shouldn’t have asked the bloke next door for sugar. He must have given me some of that wonky powder instead - shit.”

His mind made up and settled on a conclusion, he made to go back inside, but Hermione couldn’t let him do that. She needed him, and letting him slip away could potentially have severe consequences.

“Malfoy!” she shrieked, and by the way he tensed his shoulders at the name she knew he would keep listening. “Listen to me, I’m not a hallucination. I’ve got some information you’d like to hear though.” She looked around at her dull surroundings. “Do you mind letting me in?”

He turned to face her and straightened. There was obscure expression on his face, that held traces of his infamous smirk along with a tinge of fear. “Oh? And what sort of information is it, that’d make me want to open the door for you? We weren’t exactly chums in school you know.”

Hermione looked down at her boots and sighed heavily. “Malfoy, you’re in danger, and I need your help.”

Another stunned silence before he opens the door. She ducks her head and goes in, immediately taking note of the setting. A dumpy looking couch sat in a corner, facing an old tall bookcase that was full the brim. She helps herself to a seat on one of the mismatched chairs next to it, and Malfoy flopped down on the sofa.

“Alright Granger, I can see you’re itching to explain and get the hell out of this dump.” When she made to protest he shook his head. “Nah don’t worry, I’d like to do so too. Now do you care to disclose why exactly you’ve come to your schoolyard rival?”

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose, unsure of how to phrase it. “I’ve got a question first. How come you’re living in the Muggle world? The court didn’t order you to.”

Although Draco and the other Slytherins were technically acquitted of all charges, they'd been given the order of community service and mandatory Muggle living conditions for a year and a half. Grumble as he may about it, Draco had to concede that he had gotten off easy, and had thus far followed all orders, as painstaking as it was. He was still allowed to be around magic, but he was bereft of a wand for a full 18 months. This was a week into the seventh, but he already felt like a decade had passed.

“I moved to the muggle world because I couldn't stand the feeling of loss that surrounded me there. You never realize what you have until suddenly everyone has it and you don’t. So I grabbed as many expensive items as I could and ran off, selling them where I could so I could afford at least this place. At least here I get less scathing looks and everyone had the same abilities I do.” He shook his head abruptly, and Hermione could tell he hadn’t meant to reveal so much. Perhaps it was the lack of human contact that made him want to spill over, even if it was her of all people.

“But you’re avoiding the subject Granger. Let’s here the proper reason why you’re here.”

The election was last month, and while the Minister was someone as forgiving as Shacklebolt, the new Wizengamot was not so kind. Filled with men and women who had lost in the war, they moved as one body, intent on getting revenge for the fallen. They were ruthless, and viewed being a Death Eater as a disease that could be passed down genetically.

Malfoy knew this, his subscription to the Prophet still stood from 1996, and he devoured news from his home world, even the articles that heralded that people in high positions were out to get him. He didn’t get her point.

“But that's the thing Malfoy, they are out to get you, and now they have a plan that has a possibility of passing.” she took a deep breath and shifted in her rickety chair.

“Are you familiar with the concept of internment camps? During the second Muggle world war, thousands of muggles from Germany, Austria, and Italy either living or seeking refuge in Britain, were pulled from their homes to live in a camp, and regarded as “aliens”. The government used this as a sort of preemptive attempt to stop the possibility of future crimes.” Hermione made sure to maintain eye contact with him. “Do you see where I’m going with this?”

Another silence, but this one was filled with a tension that differed from the one a few minutes ago. “B-but they can’t do that!” Malfoy exclaimed. “There’s so many of us!”

“Exactly.” Hermione pressed grimly. “There are too many of you to be sure who is a threat and who’s not, so they plan to just round up anyone with a history or connection with the Death Eaters. I heard it from Mr. Weasley, they’re at least only debating it so far.”

He seemed to mull this over. “Then where do I come in?”

This caught her off guard. “What?”

“How come you’ve come to me then? I understand that you’re a obnoxiously righteous person who’s business is to butt into other people’s problems, but I don’t understand how this connects you to me of all people.”

“I’m sorry, but you weren’t exactly my first thought!” she looked incensed. “If this law passed, people I actually cared about would be sent away! You know Andromeda Tonks? Your other aunt who lost everything but her grandson? She’d be taken away from him and put among the very people she tried to escape! I won’t let that happen just because you’re an egotistical piece of-”

“Granger! Granger, goodness I get it! I’d be getting sent off too you know? You have no reason to get mad at me, especially if you’re saying you need my help!” He had his hands outstretched in front of him as if physically warding off an attack, and Hermione realized she was getting a tad touchy.

She conceded, and surprisingly, her cheeks turned redder, and she looked away at his motley bookcase. “Oh! Well I was getting to that! Er, we were discussing it over brunch the other day at the Burrow, and some people thought it was a grand idea, you see, to send hordes of people away to some remote location for being vaguely related to an asshole!” Her voice was increasing in volume now, obviously she was remembering a passionate argument. “I disagreed of course - it’s never turned out well before, and well, it’s just blatant prejudice!”

She continued on, now full on ranting. “It turned out into a bit of a fight actually, and I was yelling that the law would prohibit any chance of any of the younger members from the possibility of change, and he was yelling about how I would know that that’s even possible and I might have screamed that Iwasinasecretrelationshipwith Draco Malfoy.”

“Sorry?” He had heard her, but he fervently hoped he’d misunderstood.

She ignored him. “And then I went down to the Ministry's archives, - got in through only my face, they need to tighten up security down there - found your address and then Apparated here.” Hermione took another deep breath, and looked at him and hoped.

“ _Merlin’s rod_.”

Hermione had to agree with the sentiment. “But I think this could work in our favor actually, you know. I’ve-”

“What the hell? How is it supposed to work in our favor? Not only have I got this threat of being sent to an internment camp, I’ve also got the pressure of Weasley breaking down the door to kill me for cheating with his girlfriend!”

“Wait, I’m not Ron’s girlfriend.”

“You’re not?”

“I’m not.” She clarified.

There was a quiet while Malfoy contemplated this for a few seconds before he launched back into raving. “Still! What could possibly be the silver lining in this situation?”

“Well, I actually thought about it! We could put on the pretense that we’ve been dating in secret from the past few months and we can prove to the public that if you’re capable of redemption and changing your views then so should all the others!”

“That’s a bit of a stretch though isn’t it? How is us parading in front of the papers supposed to shift the entire wizarding world’s perception? I’m willing to bet it wouldn’t work if this were after that Muggle war.”

Hermione was not willing to budge on this. “But that’s because the Muggle world is so much bigger than ours! We’re scores smaller, so we at least have a chance.”

 _Please_ Malfoy? If you have no other reason to do it, do it to get out of this ‘hellhole’ as you call it.”she gestured to the building, the shabby bookcase in particular. Books should never be placed in such a situation. “You can live in my flat.”

“Huh. I’ll think about it.”

He was evading giving his answer, although she knew he had one. “ _Malfoy_.”

“Fine fine! I don’t have much of a choice do I? I’ll do it.”

Hermione groaned her relief, and stood up. “Alright then Malfoy.” She extended her hand to him. “Be my boyfriend to show the whole world you’re not an asshole anymore?”

He took it and shook firmly. “It’ll be difficult, but I think I can do that.”

 

* * *

 

_[December 4th, 1998 7pm]_

“Well this it. Home sweet home.” She gestured around her as they stepped out of the fireplace. Draco shifted the boxes in his arms slightly as he took it in. It was a sizable flat, furnished with shades of maroon and gold. It looked very lived-in with a heavy quilt thrown over the sofa and books everywhere, in various stages of sizes and progress.

It was considerably smaller than what he was used to as a Malfoy, but it was loads better than where he'd been since the war. “Nice. Anywhere I can put these down?”

“Oh! Yeah here, you can just put them in the guest room, that'll be yours anyway.” She led him over, and he was pleased to see that the Gryffindor hues of the living room weren't present here. He put down his stuff and took a seat on the bed to face Hermione.

“So um, I don’t think I mentioned this earlier, but I called Harry and Ginny over for dinner and-”

“What when? How could you spring this one me? For fuck’s sakes Granger, I only just came to terms with this an hour back.”

“Sorry sorry, I know! I just- I panicked earlier alright - Ron was yelling and I’d just blurted that I was secretly dating their enemy and I was spouting all sorts of shit while trying to get the hell out of there - and I saw Ginny’s red face and Harry, well.” she scrunched her eyes closed, as if she was there again. “Well he just looked betrayed! And I told them hurriedly that they should come for dinner, because I would show them that you’re not awful or whatever. I’m sorry, I know I got a bit ahead of myself sorry.”

The last thing Draco wanted at the moment was to deal with Potter and his girlfriend. Actually, all he really wanted to do was take a lengthy nap on the comfortable bed he was currently sitting on, and pretend that today had never happened. But looking at Granger, who had given him the possibility of a nap, made him realize that although she spoke of needing his help, he owed her as well.

He sighed, loud and dramatic, just to assure that she knew that he was making an effort for her. “Alright, what do I need to do?”

She clapped her hands together, a smile on her face that she probably didn’t realize that she was pointing at him. “Nothing much, just try to find something a bit more nicer to wear, and make an effort to be nice to my friends? I know you dislike them but we’ll need their support.”

“Wait, we're telling Potter and Weasley about the fake part?”

Granger wrung her hands. “No, because I'm trying to prove a point to the whole world, which includes them.”

She wasn't the type to lie to her friends, and she could tell by her expression that she was loathe to do it. He nearly opened his mouth to say something, but stopped himself when he realized what he was doing. This was Granger after all, and it hadn't been too long ago that he'd taken pleasure in her discomfort.

“Okay..” he said instead. “So what’s for dinner?”

She snapped back into the conversation, and shrugged. “It doesn't matter really, I think I’m just going to go order pizza. They’ll be here in about twenty minutes anyway, and it’d take too long to make anything.

And she left the room, leaving Draco with no idea of how he’d ended up in this position.

 

***

 

“Oh no, that won't do! Come on Hermione, you two have been enemies since you met, if you expect us to believe you went from that to shagging,” Hermione gasped, “then you don’t know us at all!”

Harry and Ginny had been here for five minutes so far, and it had been one entire long awkward moment since. Ginny had been filling the discomfort thus far with random questions and small talk, with Hermione and Draco fumbling to answer. Harry had not spoken a word.

“Um, Sainsbury’s.” Hermione answered, naming the first place she could think of. She looked at Draco, who was nodding as if he was remembering the same thing.

“Yeah, although I'm more of a Tesco’s bloke myself this one was closer to my work and I needed, um, chocolate.” It was a tiny blunder, but he kept on going valiantly. “Let's see, I was getting frustrated at one of those talking checkout things, and Granger here took pity on me and decided to helped me out.”

Hermione was nodded along, getting into the story. “Yeah, and then when you said thank you I looked up and our eyes just connected-”

“-and yours flashed with recognition the same time that mine did-”

“-and you went ‘ _Granger?_ ’ really slow and dumb because you just couldn’t believe it and-”

He glared at this assessment but continued. “-and you stammered out a _Your Welcome_ and tried to run away, but then the checkout thing started screaming something about bagging area, and you had to stop to help out.”

“Seeing you trapped into helping me inspired me into asking you to coffee to catch up. It became a weekly thing, and although it was just as friends at first, but then once we realized we liked each other-”

“- which I only knew ‘cause you blurted it like a dunderhead over hot chocolate when I mentioned how much I liked snow!”

Draco smiled, and although he was very aware of Potter and _Ginny was it?_ he continued to look directly at Hermione, who was smiling at him as well. She was very convincing wasn’t she, for someone who claimed to hate lying. That or she was amazing under pressure. “It wasn’t my fault you know, that you were hiding your feelings! And if I’m the dunderhead who blurts things, what do you call the person who knocks over their drink when they reach over and plant one on me?”

The doorbell rang and Hermione deliberately broke his gaze, clearing her throat.”That must be the pizza!” She then practically sprinted to the door, and in the two seconds she was away, Ginny Weasley’s face completely morphed in front of him. The casually interested look she had affected while the two were storytelling transformed to one of intrigued mischief, if such an emotion even existed.

Thankfully Granger returned before Weaslette could do anything, Now that things had somewhat calmed down, dinner went over in a much more subdued tone, with mostly Hermione and Weasley talking, except for a few things contributed here and there by Draco. Conversation didn't come near their relationship again, and although there were a few stilted remarks that verged on going into politics, usually a well placed nudge by Granger brought it back to gardening or whatever. Potter still hadn't said a word except drink his wine and pick the pineapple off his pizza like a barbarian.

 

***

 

“That's what I said! But Hermione won’t believe me, you see she still seems to think that the only value sports has is exercise!”

“That's absolutely tragic. Just when I thought she'd finally get over her fear of heights and become the star Quidditch strategist I know she could be. What a shame, really.” Malfoy nudged her shoulder gently, and gave her an _adoring_ smile, one that she returned weakly. Not for the first time tonight, she was amazed at how enigmatic he could make his normally ashen face.

Hermione had been feeling the dread pool in her stomach throughout dinner, even while discussing the new jasmine flowers her plant in the corner had recently grown. Although she was impressed with Draco’s acting ability, and she supposed Ginny _did_ seem to be getting along with him and laying off the offense, the sinking feeling that rushed into her stomach every time she so much as glanced at Harry spoke volumes.

He wasn't purely upset about the fact that it was his school rival - she was attuned to his feelings, you didn't live in a forest with someone for months without picking up on a few things - but her keeping it a secret was also as issue. Even with her memorised speech, just knowing that she'd have to be the one to confront him first put a bad mood over her pizza.

“Oh look at the time! We're really sorry Hermione, but I've got Quidditch early tomorrow and if I want to be alive for practice we've got to leave now.” Ginny jumped up from the table, and everyone else followed automatically, creating for a simultaneous screeching of their three chairs on the kitchen tile. “As always I'm thankful to you for treating us to one of Muggles’ most magical creations.” She grinned, nodding to the now empty pizza box.

“Of course!” Hermione replied, summoning a smile onto her face, “I'm glad you two finally got to properly meet Draco!” She said, channeling all her fake enthusiasm as she felt blindly for Malfoy's arm. Thankfully he had understood her gesture, and eased an arm around her waist. She marveled at the feeling for a second, before regaining focus.

“Well thanks again!” Ginny lightly shoved Harry, who had been slowly trying to escape via the fireplace. “Wait Harry, don't forget that word you wanted to have with Hermione!”

She disappeared at his weak “What, but-”. Clearly Ginny wouldn't allow him going home without speaking to Hermione first. Harry sighed and opened his mouth to speak before he was cut off.

“Uh, I'll go do the dishes alright?” Malfoy blurted, before nodding his head and shuffling to the kitchen.

For the first time that evening. Hermione was alone with Harry, and with this realisation she sighed, all the tension suddenly leaving her body. “Alright Harry, say what you want about him. You'll have to be quiet though, the kitchen is only the next room.”

Harry just shrugged his shoulders. “I don't know what to say really. I mean,” he took a long sigh before flopping down on the sofa. “What can I say? What more could you be hiding, only to blurt out randomly later?”

“Harry, that was a mistake alright? What Draco and I were hiding was something so-” she scrambled for words that would make her lies into half-truths, but Harry cut her off.

“No need to explain it to me, I believe all the bullshit you’re undoubtedly going to throw at me about how he’s reformed or whatever. Hell, I agree with you on the whole internment camp thing don't I? No no, you've got to explain it to Ron. Remember him, your ex boyfriend?”

Hermione, who had felt her stomach rolling with discontent all throughout dinner finally snapped, at the mention of Ron, and she stood up, towering over Harry.

“Harry James Potter, if you are going to insinuate that I am orchestrating a whole hoax simply to spite the man I dated for a total of two weeks? You think that I'd still be hung up on a man who disagrees with me on whether or not to send innocent people to exaltation?”

“What? That's- that's not what I'm saying Hermione.” he stood up, blinked long and slow, and made toward the fireplace. “I'm just saying that this whole thing with Malfoy looks a bit fishy given the circumstances.”

“Leaving so soon Potter? I was thinking we could have a nightcap. The wife's got an excuse but you're free aren't you?”

Malfoy’s sudden appearance behind them shocked both of them, but alas there he stood, brandishing a bottle of firewhiskey he must have nicked from Hermione's cabinet.

Harry shook his head, the shock wearing off and returning to the expression from before. “I'll have to decline Malfoy sorry to say.” He picked up the floo powder and was about to throw it in when he turned back, as if something were bothering him. “And Ginny’s not my wife.”

The both of them waited two seconds after the flames died down from his departure before they moved in sync. Hermione groaned and fell onto the couch, her head in her hands as Draco proclaimed “That went well!”

“He's suspicious you know.” Hermione said from the cocoon of her arms.

“Oh I know.” Malfoy answered, in a sweet sarcastic tone that fit him perfectly. Unlike his smirk from their Hogwarts days however, it didn't seem to hold any malice. “I'd recognize that look anywhere.”

He nudged something cool to her elbow, and she looked up to seem him seated next to her, offering her a glass of the firewhiskey she hadn't noticed him pouring.

“The question is, how are we going to convince him not to be?” He continued, taking a long sip.

Hermione's eyes widened. “You mean you're going through with this? Even after the disaster that was tonight?”

He shrugged. “Why not? I've got nothing else to do for the next fourteen months. Besides, this is a challenge, and goodness knows I couldn't ask for a better partner.” He nodded at her, and Hermione reflexively rolled her eyes.

“Well then.” Hermione sat up, and took a sip. “We've got to have a set plan of which officials to convince and how we're going to sway the public-”

“Obviously we can't just wing it. I'd expect no less from Hermione Granger.” She knew he was poking fun of her, but it did feel nice to be appreciated for the work that got put in. He'd also implied that he'd be helping with that stage, which made her break into a full smile.

“Alright then,” she raised her glass to see him smiling as well. “time to overturn some laws!”

FIN


	2. First Impressions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! as you can see, I have chosen to continue this story! thanks to everyone who encouraged me, I hope my attempts at plot are worth your praise! this chapter is a bit on the short side, but later ones will make up for it!

_[December 5th, 1998 1am]_

The room, was submerged in deep quiet, except for the two occupants on the sofa who were bathed in the orange glow of the dying fireplace. They lay as far from the other as possible on the opposite ends of the couch, however their legs inevitably tangled together in the middle.

The quiet was interrupted suddenly by the fire flaring up to a bright green, letting out a roar. A head from the embers spoke, “Hermione! Hermione is that you?”

The girl’s voice brought the woman on the sofa out of slumber, as she sat up with a start, glass raised threateningly. Realizing what she was holding up, she quickly exchanged it for her wand.

“Down here Hermione.”

Hermione pointed her wand at the fire, then figuring out who it was, shook her head and crouched down in front of the girl in the fireplace’s face. “Ginny? What's wrong?”

She looked back at Malfoy for a second. He had woken up when the floo had roared, but then had put his head down once he realized who it was. However she had no doubt he was eavesdropping. Hermione returned to Ginny just as she begun talking.

“There's been another attack.” She too seemed to have been woken up abruptly. “They've called Harry in to check it out as its a relatively minor attack, but I'm still kinda worried.”

Hermione’s eyebrows furrowed together. “Is it them.”

Ginny nodded morosely. “The Knights of Walpurgis yeah, I listened in on Harry and the Head Auror’s floo call. They destroyed a Muggle-born’s shop in Diagon Alley. No victims but no real suspects either.”

“That's awful, I'm sorry Harry had to leave you.” Then, before she could think about the repercussions of her having to sleep in what was now Draco’s room, “Do you wanna sleep here?”

Thankfully, she declined. “No no, I'm fine. I can fall asleep without him now, thanks to all these midnight missions.” The girl, who had long become a woman at heart, sighed. “I just called to let you know cause you told me to last time.”

“Thanks Gin. I'll see you for lunch sometime this week alright?”

“Yup.” Ginny smiled again, albeit tiredly, “Then you can properly explain to me the whole Malfoy thing, without the audience this time. Goodnight Hermione!”

“Night.” Hermione waved and watched as the flames swirled back to orange. She turned to look at Malfoy, who she knew had been watching the entire thing.

She stood up and picked up the two empty glasses on the table. “All right, get your arse up Malfoy, we've got a busy day tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

_[December 5th, 1998 12pm]_

The fingers tapping on the table was the only sound between the two occupants of the booth of the otherwise lively restaurant. The waitress had been shooed away a minute ago, and was currently giving them a strange look as she relayed their order to the kitchen.

Hermione restricted herself from asking Draco for the time again as she checked the door. Was Skeeter running late?

After Harry left last night the two of them had put their heads together and came up with a plan, one that she'd unfurled in its entirety this morning over breakfast. The first thing they had to do was gauge the public’s first impressions, as that would show just how much work they had cut out for them. Thus thry were now enacting Stage 1: First Impressions.

Hermione had dropped by Skeeter’s office and dropped off a tip that _the_ Hermione Granger was having lunch at a Muggle restaurant with someone familiar, and then apparated back here as fast as she could. The plan was for Hermione and Draco to be “caught” enjoying a secret lunch date when the reporter came in to pick up her lunch order.

However there seemed to be a slight snag, as there was no nosy bug in sight.

Malfoy caught on to her deadly combination of anxiety and irritation and pushed away the cup he'd been blowing bubbles in. “Granger come on. Relax alright? We’re not going to convince anybody ignoring each other acting like you’re waiting for someone else.”

“Sorry sorry.” Hermione conceded, sitting up and taking her eyes off of the door. “It's just- where _is she_?”

“Granger it doesn't-”

“Yes it does matter! How are we going to get the popular vote we need? To make sure the law isn't passed we need to sway the Wizengamot, and to sway the Wizengamot we need to get the plurality through the popular vote. And-”

“Merlin Granger I was going to say it doesn't matter if Skeeter shows up or not, because even if she did we'd be convincing no one! I bet you the waitresses don't even believe we're on a ‘date’.”

Hermione glanced at the staff behind the counter who seemed to have written them off as a two acquaintances waiting on their mutual friend. “We're supposed to be on a date. Right. So then, er, we should…” she thought for a moment. “we should get to know the little details!”

“What?”

“Yeah! Dates are supposed to be about getting all those little details like favorite whatevers and talking about mutual interests. That's what they do in films about fake relationships. In any case, it'll get us ready for the interview we'll undoubtedly be doing next week.”

“Come on Granger, that’ll never work. We’ve known each other, what, seven or eight years now?”

“That doesn’t mean you know my favorite subject or favorite color or anything!” Hermione argued, now completely forgetting about watching the door.

“Of course it does! Let’s see, I’m going to bet that it’s Transfiguration, and I’d say maybe a burgundy red.”

Something in the way he phrased the last bit sounded familiar, and it clinked after two seconds of frowning. “That’s not fair!” she exclaimed, referring to the special the _Prophet_ had done on her, Harry, and Ron two months following the Battle of Hogwarts. Malfoy was grinning. “That’s just plain cheating, you can’t do that!”

“Of course I can, you didn’t say I couldn’t. Plus, there was the fact that I’ve seen your living room.”

An image of her living room’s color scheme came to mind and she inwardly conceded. “Still cheating.”

Malfoy shrugged, but the triumphant smirk that came with knowing he was right still didn’t come down. “Come on then, ask me another. Let’s see how good I am at being Hermione Granger’s date.”

Hermione was ask how he knew about Transfiguration when she was interrupted by a bright flash. It appeared that Rita Skeeter had arrived.

“Well! This is certainly unexpected!” the woman simpered. Hermione looked to Draco nervously, hoping he remembered the story they had come up with this morning over breakfast.

 

* * *

 

_[December 6th, 1998 8am]_

Hermione poured over the _Sunday Prophet_ lazily, looking over the contents of their first page news for the fourth time since it had been delivered an hour ago. A picture of her and Malfoy, talking animatedly before theatrically breaking apart played over and over, right under the headline of _WAR HEROINE GRANGER HAS CLANDESTINE AFFAIR WITH JUNIOR DEATH EATER MALFOY._ She made a small tsk at the title before taking a sip of her tea. The title was too long, but that's to be expected from a low-quality writer such as Skeeter. They'd even topped the details of last night’s attack.

Her musings were interrupted by an owl tapping at the window. It was the familiar dark grey feathers of Harry's owl, Elphaba, not the tawny standard ones from news outlets that had been trying to get an interview with her since the _Prophet_ came out. That reminded her, she needed Malfoy to get his lazy arse up so that they could choose a news source to give an exclusive to later on.

Hermione let Elphaba in, and after dropping the letter onto her pile of newspapers, the owl flew back to the place by the window where she kept the treats. She opened the note that read as follows.

 

> _Hermione-_
> 
> _Interesting that only the day after you announce it to us it comes out in the paper. I'm telling you, something's fishy here._
> 
> _-Harry_
> 
> _p.s. Also Ginny says you can drop in and pick up your skates from her at any time._

Granger was laughing when he came in, but it wasn't exactly pleasant. He dragged himself up to the kitchen island and sat down on a bar stool. “Finally go ‘round the bend there Granger?”

She simply shook her head, and handed him the letter and a cup of tea. “What’s this?”

“Harry’s suspicions have made a reappearance it seems.” She replied, wiping a tear out of her eyes before showing him the newspaper.

“And you’re laughing because?” he tossed the note down.

Granger shook her head. “It’s no reason, just that I think it’s finally begun to sink it, what we’re doing here.”

 _Oh_. A drop of trepidation wormed it’s way into Draco’s brain. She couldn't back up now. He needed this more than she did, for reasons she didn't even know. “You regret it?” he asked casually. “Because it’s too late to drop out now, you’ve already gone too far.” He nudged the paper.

The change in her demeanor was immediate, and Draco felt a twinge of what could be regret. She set down her tea and began to untie and retie her hair into a ponytail huffily. “You think I don’t know that Malfoy? I am going against so many of my own moral codes to help you, and and-”

She stopped and closed her eyes. After approximately 10 seconds she took a deep breath and snatched the paper out of his hands. “Now, according to the timeline, we've just planted the idea of us into the public’s head. All we have to do now is be seen out together a few times and we'll have our own spokespeople.”

Draco noticed her attempt to push away the tense moment and followed suit. “How do you mean?”

“Well in my experience, everyone wants their fifteen minutes of fame; just look at how many people ‘confessed’ to knowing me after the war. We need only to convince people of that sort and they'll do the rest of the convincing for us. With this article alone well be a source of gossip for about a week. And once we've garnered enough talk, we can make a proper statement.”

“Alright well if you're done overanalyzing the plan for the fifth time I'm going to go take a shower.”

“What about breakfast idiot?” Hermione asked him as he got up and headed to the bathroom.

Malfoy shrugged. “We'll eat out.”

“We can't just do that, we ate outside yesterday. You might be back in wizarding society Malfoy, but you're not rich again.”

He just rolled his eyes, and Hermione gave up. Once the 18 months was up and he got his inheritance back, she'd be withdrawing some funds.

***

“Granger?”

His sudden change to a low tone came as a shock, as they'd been having a rather passionate argument about Arithmancy concepts just a second ago. Surprisingly, he knew a lot, or at least enough to hold his own against her. Hermione looked up in surprise when his hand touched hers.

He tilted his head slightly to her left, gathered get other hand and pressed her fingers to his lips. “There’s a woman off to your left. I think she's recognized us.”

“Really?” Hermione smiled slowly and leaned in, even with her conscience screaming. “I think she's out of my eyesight. What's she doing?”

Malfoy peeked out of the corner of his eye covertly, and returned her smile. “Nothing, just staring. Wait, her friend's just come back from the bathroom.” His gaze returned to her. “It seems our audience has doubled.”

Hermione kept up her smile, even when she almost flinched as he laid a kiss on her right hand. It hadn’t been obvious, but he had definitely noticed.

“Granger,” even as he spoke she kept her eyes on a point just in between his eyebrows, so as to keep up the image of looking into his eyes without having to actually do so. “have you ever been in a fake relationship before?”

She thought back to the disaster of a night that was Cormac McLaggen back in 6th year. “No.” _Not even a real relationship before to be perfectly honest._

“Well, obviously.” The slight insult against her acting abilities was so small and was said so casually, she decided to ignore it. “I have, you see, and I can tell you for a fact that nothing gets the message across like physical displays of affection.”

But that wasn't her. Even during the two weeks her and Ron had made a go at it, Hermione had been careful not to be obnoxious. She told Malfoy this.

“What, did your plan for us having a fake relationship to the _public_ not have any room for an actual relationship?”

Hermione had a retort to that, and a really good one too, but if she said it she knew her loud tone and blazing eyes would reveal their little ruse.

“As much as I hate to say it, I think Harry’s right about one thing.” she took back her hands and smiled at him pleasantly.

Malfoy smirked at her and got up from the table when she did the same, but didn’t comment on her change of topic. “How so?”

“We can’t make an appearance every day if we’re going along with the plan and easing the public into the thought of us having secret rendezvouses.” The conversation was clearly over, and the both of them left the shop in a silence that was put off by the fact that they held each other’s hands tightly.

 

* * *

 

_[December 7th, 1998 10am]_

Draco pulled his cloak closer around him as he walked down the street, carefully counting the houses on the street before his. Without realizing, he chanted them the numbers out loud, but even so there was no one to hear him.

He stopped in front of the steps of the 7th house, but had to check with the surrounding graffiti for confirmation at the sight in front of him. Passed out on the sloped stairs was a heavily bundled man, whose head lolled uncomfortably on the spindly iron railing. Draco let a long suffering sigh before walking up and giving the body a small kick.

The man woke up with a start, screaming something along the lines of “Happy Christmas!” before he came to his sentences and gave Draco a leveled look. “What’re you doing on my property, punk?”

Draco rolled his eyes. Mack, the 40-something druggie that lived next door to him was one of the many reasons he had been so eager to get out of this dump of a safehouse. His normal dress of musty, stain-covered sweats today had the added company of a reindeer antler headband atop his head. _Seasonal_ , Draco thought.

“You're on _my_ steps actually Mack. On with you then, I don't have time to deal with you today.”

That much was true. Hermione had gone off to work, but before she left she had hinted at possibly telling her coworkers that she'd lunching at home, to gauge their reactions at her both actually taking her lunch break, and perhaps enjoying it with her secret beau. He didn't know the exact time she would get back, but getting here all the way out here from Hermione's place took a long time, especially the Muggle way. He would need to sell another watch if he was going to make up what he lost on the tube and bus fare.

Mack had finally slouched off of his little porch, so Draco let himself in. The house was in much the same state as it was when he'd left it last on Friday.

The house was a safe house that had been used by the Malfoys during great-great grandfather's time, hence why the old charms were fading, letting the Ministry and even Mack know of its existence. Draco had come here with Snape after Dumbledore’s death, before he'd been taken back to Malfoy Manor to be under the Dark Lord’s watchful eye.

Draco was not here for sentimentality however, as he swept past to his bedroom and collectively shoved all his clothes into his bag. Finished, he opened his sock drawer and drew out a stack of letters, bound together by a green silk ribbon.

He simply stared at it for a moment, a million thoughts whizzing through his head, some question whether holding onto something like this, that was so obviously precious to him, was the best choice. He snapped out of it, and hid the bundle obscurely in his bag, in the folds of his trousers. Of course he had to keep it, to remind himself what he was working for.

He looked around the room, zipping his bag up. As he had initially thought, there was nothing else for him here. And if in he did forget, he could easily come back. Hopefully though, he'd never be reduced to living there again.

He broke off into a sprint, the second he got out breathing in the sharp and crisp winter air. Mack yelled something unintelligible as he passed, but Draco kept running, hoping he'd be back before Granger came and realized he was gone. He pushed the bundle of photos and letters in his duffel bag resolutely out of his mind.


	3. Idle Talk

_[December 11th, 1998 5pm]_

“-and so we ran after him of course, but he took advantage of the fact that he was stealing from a joke shop you see, and broke open the pen of Pygmy Puffs right on top of the miniature Bounce-a-Thons. It was a nightmare, I’m telling you Hermione, if you’d only been there…” 

“I can imagine Ginny.” Hermione nodded along with her friend, as she tried for another sip of her boiling hot chocolate that she cuddled in her hands for warmth. She backed out the second it hit her tongue; it was still too soon.“Did you at least get a good look at the perpetrator?”

 The pair of them were bustling through the swarm of people in Diagon Alley, passing through the regular Friday 5 o’clock rush. Because Hermione had had to cancel lunch today due to the paperwork that came with capturing the remaining Lestrange brother and Dolohov at the same time, Ginny had met her just as she was on her way to ask for her boss for overtime _again_. Ginny had dragged her out for coffee at Diagon Alley’s newly opened joint and was now walking her over to the Leaky Cauldron’s floo.

Ginny wiped off her tiny foam mustache and shook her head. “No, he was in and out pretty fast, but Verity swears she saw his, and I quote,” she paused for emphasis and made a face. “‘ _bright sky blue orbs_ ’. Which of course means that it’s Lockhart.” She and Hermione burst into laughter.

“That’s awful Ginny.” Hermione said after they finished giggling. “Do you know what he stole though? Because if it’s something of higher expense then George had better report it.”

Ginny shook her head. “Nah, it isn’t worth it getting compensation for, just a few packets of Peruvian Darkness Powder and a Decoy Detonator, and I think a few fireworks. Nothing huge. Besides, for some reason the fact that we were robbed has brought along more business. It’s the weirdest thing.”

Hermione nodded as she opened the door of the Leaky Cauldron and let Ginny through, although she felt a strange weight in her stomach.

“You coming in?” Hermione looked up to see her friend giving her a strange look, and realized she was still holding open the door. She shook her head and went in. It was probably nothing anyway. Really the only thing she had to fear these days besides the copier accidentally creating too many copies were the remaining Death Eaters, and there were barely any left anyway. That was one good aspect of the new Ministry’s ruthless efforts.

“Thanks for coming with me Hermione, I always do like talking to you.” Ginny smiled at her, seemingly ignoring her momentary lapse as they made their way back to the Floo.

“Of course Gin, it's been great, and the same goes to you as always.”

“Oh hey,” Ginny said as they got in line behind a very bald man holding what looked like 7 cauldrons. “are you going to the Holyhead Harpies Ice Rink Ball?”

Hermione scrunched her eyes shut in thought just as the man in front of Ginny placed a few sickles into the bowl and stepped into the fireplace with his green powder and cauldrons. “Is that the charity formal event that you've been borrowing my skates for to practice with?”

“Yup, but I've got mine, they finally came in the post this morning! But are you coming? Remember half of our proceeds are going to the War Orphans Fund.” Ginny had one leg inside of the fireplace now and one out as she spoke to Hermione, and some of the green powder she'd collected was slipping from her fingers into the logs.

 “Would you hurry up? You and your friend have been there for hours.” The short woman behind Hermione rumbled out from underneath her humongous black hat. Hermione nodded to her before turning back and making a face at Ginny.

“Of course, I’ll be there.” she stepped out of line to appease the other woman. “Bye!”

 Having now lost her place and with an only warm hot chocolate, she meandered to one of the vacant booths near the back to finish it in quiet. She didn't very much like traveling with food anyway, as it had the effect of getting everywhere in transit.

***

Her plans for quiet were disrupted however, by a group of noisy witches settling themselves in the booth behind her. And if she wasn't wrong, wasn't that the voice of one Lavender Brown?

If she'd had any doubt over who it was, that doubt was blown away seconds later when one of the women loudly exclaimed, “Lavender! You can't just say that, she went to school with us!”

“So?” Lavender snorted. “It's true. Somehow, some way, Hermione Granger is luring in men, and given her brainiac status, it's probably through magical means.” 

Hermione sat up straighter in her seat, even though she knew that Lavender and the other woman probably didn't know she was here. If they did they'd only have been a bit quieter.

“But Draco Malfoy? Krum and Ron at least were on the good side.” The other voice piped up skeptically.

“Oh Parvati, how naive you can be. Malfoy is attractive, and for an obvious slag like Granger that's all that really matters.” That was followed by loud slurping.

“I dunno, they hated each other at school though didn't they. Even if Hermione were to go after him, don't they hate each other? And where would she even find him?”

That earned a moment of silence for a moment as the ladies mulled over those two questions for a second. Hermione waited with baited breath, and glanced at the fireplace, which was on the other side of the room. If she got up, they'd see her, meaning she'd have to wait until they left, and have to listen to their theories. She would've sighed if she could. 

“Didn't Malfoy get banished to the Muggle world though?” another voice piped up, and Hermione tried to place it. “Hermione is a muggle-born, they could've met out there.”

“Don’t be stupid Susan.” Lavender chided, just as Hermione mentally fist-pumped over guessing the third occupant at their table. “The Muggle world is huge, she probably had a tracker on him or something.” 

“But why?” Parvati asked. “They hate each other.”

 “Just makes their sex lives more passionate I guess.” Susan said and the three of them burst into laughter.

“Hey gang, what'd you like to order today?” Hannah, the waitress, interrupted them, and as the witches related their orders for a snack, Hermione figured she'd sneak out while they were distracted. However, they made their order too quickly as by the time she rose to make a break for it, Hannah was gone and the girls had restarted their conversation. Hermione tuned back in, it was good to get public opinion, awful as it was.

 “What do you think of Hermione being with Malfoy though? It's supposed to be a secret relationship isn't it, until recently?” Susan brought the girls back.

“I dunno, if they're in a secret relationship, how come it got out? This is Hermione we're talking about after all, she's pretty on top of things, think about how hard we tried at the _Prophet_ to get a scoop on her and Ron when they dated. She didn't slip once until they announced their break up.” Parvati rationalized.

Lavender wouldn't like that, Hermione guessed, and it was proven correct by the huff before she spoke. “Everybody makes mistakes Parv, even geniuses like Hermione Granger can't keep up their pristine ruse forever. Dating a Death Eater,” she let out a horrible short laugh. “she’ll learn. _Eventually_.”

“Speaking of news,” Susan seemed suddenly interested in changing the subject in light of Lavender’s sudden heat. “is everyone ignoring that attack this weekend by those Knights of Walpurgis?” 

Parvati seemed to have caught on and was now making scraping noises with her fork. Or maybe that was Lavender; Hermione couldn't really tell without looking. “I wouldn't worry Susan, they just make threats and throw rocks into a few windows. Bartholomew at the _Prophet_ says that they're second page news at best.”

“Bartholomew from the _Prophet_ huh?” Lavender teased, and judging from the joking and amused tones the conversation descended into, Hermione guessed that this was a good a time as any to make her exit.

* * *

  _[December 11th, 1998 6pm]_

“Malloy, I'm home!” Hermione shouted out as she stepped through the Floo. But instead of the sight that usually greeted her of Malfoy irritably waking up from his nap on the sofa, she found him fully dressed and seated tight-lipped next to a ginger man with a quite red face.

“Oh, hey Ron. Usually people notify you ahead that they're going to stop by before they do so but-”

“Cut the crap Hermione.” Ron interrupted.

“Cut the crap Hermione.” Malfoy repeated calmly.

Ron’s face, if possible, grew a tinge darker. Hermione saw what was going on immediately and looked at Malfoy imploringly. “Really Draco?”

Malfoy just shrugged and got up. “He showed up about ten minutes ago, and asked me a tad rudely what the hell I was doing here. He woke me up from my nap.”

“No reason to act like a child.” She told him, and fought down the urge to jump away when he wrapped his arms around her loosely.

“Oi, get away from her!” Ron interrupted, standing up from the couch.

“Oi, get away from her!” Malfoy repeated back automatically.

“Tell him to shut up!”

“Tell him to shut up!” Malfoy grinned at her, and Hermione felt a small part of her that craved revenge from Ron lighten at that, and chose to ignore his blatant jab.

“Alright, here's what we’ll do, it's Friday, so you get to choose the movie that you like for tonight. And if you're extra good, I'll even let you have some of that pie with ice cream.” She told him in a baby voice, lying through her teeth. There was no movie night ritual, nor was there any pie, but Ron didn't have to know that.

Malfoy frowned. “You're treating me like a child.”

“Well you're acting like one. Now go read a book or something, shoo.” And, before she lost the nerve, she stood on her toes, grabbed his face, and gave him a peck on the lips. His lips were smooth, and felt rather nice against hers.

It couldn't have lasted more than two seconds, yet Hermione got instant gratification at the contact. She pulled away as soon as she could, and noticed his strange smile. She couldn’t help but replicate it. Fake or not, it was nice. “Shoo!” she repeated.

“Alright alright, I got the message. See you later Weasel.” Malfoy smirked at Ron, and left down the hallway.

Hermione left her smile up for as long as she could until her gaze returned to Ron, and it dropped. All the weight from work and listening to Lavender Brown call her a slut returned at once, and she shook her head. “Finally work up the courage to come here and apologize have you?” 

“Apologize? Why would I have to-” he cut himself off, and restarted at her look. “Okay so I said some things out of line, but can you really penalize me for my beliefs ‘Mione?”

“Absolutely, if your beliefs are going to get innocent people get sent away!” Hermione’s volume increased at once. 

“Innocent people?” Ron asked, rising to the bait of her loud tone as usual. “Those are monsters! People who would just as easily kill as they would butter a piece of toast! Are you saying they should be free to do as they please?”

“Don't be an idiot Ron, those are actual criminals, who belong in Azkaban. The people they're sending off here are people who just have the misfortune of being related to them.”

“What, like your precious boyfriend over there? This is all for him isn't it? Charity for being one of the worst supporters of  You-Know-Who to ever live?”

“I'm sorry I have a conscience!” Hermione roared. “And that it can extend to more than just three or four people! Just because you have no idea what sympathy is that doesn't mean you have to interfere in my romantic life and what it-”

“Your romantic life- what a load of _bullshit_! He’s using you, probably called Rita Skeeter in himself when you went out on your first date! A bit of publicity to make himself look good to the public- don't think I don't know what he's playing at.”

“You're grasping at straws Ronald.” Hermione hissed. “That was hardly our first date, we've been dating in secret five months.”

“Five months?” Ron wasn't as loud now as he was moments ago.

“That's right, now if you aren't here to say sorry then you might as well leave.” Hermione tapped her foot, but felt herself melting. Arguments had a sort of high that always left you crashing down afterwards. 

Ron was silent for a moment before he announced, “I don't like him.”

Hermione nearly melted to the ground as the rush of the argument blew out of her. “I know you don't. But he has changed. He's more...” Hermione didn't know to what extent his beliefs had, but she tried to be as honest as possible. “mellow now, like he's realized how to value human life more. I think he's come to understand that as much as he likes to bark, biting just isn't his style.”

Her best friend rolled his eyes, but Hermione saw a hint of a smile. “He's still annoying as fuck though, and I'm not changing my view on this bill for him.”

Hermione gave him a tight smile and nodded. “Whatever. Now do you want to stay for dinner?” At the look of fear that came with knowing he might have to spend extra time with Malfoy, he shook his head and left, leaving Hermione to the sudden quiet of the living room.

* * *

_[December 11th 1998, 6:30pm]_

Draco now knew, through personal experience, that it was completely impossible to focus on a book about numerology when your fake girlfriend was arguing with her real ex-boyfriend about whether or not you should get shipped off to a distant place or not in a few months. Certainly does not offer help when attempting formulas either.

He had heard most of it, the shouting part was the clearest, but it was cut off suddenly once he heard Granger talk about their supposed first date. With the rush of the fireplace having passed about five minutes ago, Draco finally decided that the coast was clear, and slowly opened the bedroom door, looking out warily.

“How’d it go?” He asked the crouched figure sitting below the sofa. The figure made a noise in response, so Draco decided to just leave it. “Great.”

He stood silently for a moment and, seeing as Granger would only be getting up on her own terms, sighed loud and theatrically. “I suppose I've got to make dinner then? Cause I've been working on my mac and cheese.” That elicited a short from her, and in triumph, he went over to the kitchen and started getting out the materials.

It did the trick however, and by the time he turned around, his arms full of the ready made mac and cheese, she was seated at the kitchen island. She still looked worn however, so he reminded himself to be cautious and not rush into the questions about what the hell just happened with Weaselbee.

He pretended to read the instructions on the box. “So, any particular reason you're more stressed than usual today?”

She let out a sort of huffy laugh, that he knew meant she was miffed, but not enough to do anything about. Draco had gotten quite good at eliciting and decoding her laughs over the past week.

“Oh, I wonder.” She said sarcastically before shaking her head slightly. “Other than the obvious intrusion, I dealt with a lot of paperwork today, and then I ran into Lavender Brown and her gang at the Leaky.”

He put down the pasta box, pretense forgotten. “Lavender Brown? Rather dim Gryffindor in our year? Nearly got mauled by Greyback?”

She looked a bit uneasy at his description but nodded nonetheless. “Yes, but not run into per say. More like I eavesdropped on her conversation.”

“Hermione Granger, golden girl, of Hogwarts, corrupted?” He joked, summoning his most charming grin.

“Hey hey, in my defense she was talking about us, and she wasn't exactly quiet about it.” The grin had worked its magic, as she was now smiling on her own, holding her hands up in mock surrender.

“What'd she say?”

“Basically what we've been aiming for, covered as it was in barbs against me.” She shrugged. “They believe we're together, as improbable as it is, but they're still on the fence about the specifics.”

“What specifics, we haven't given any.” Draco said, confused.

Hermione shook her head. “Exactly, but what that means is that we've got our foundation up, and now all we need is one more big and obviously outing to confirm what are technically still suspicions,  and then we'll do an exclusive to the _Prophet_. And that's not the only insight I got from Lavender.”

Draco was about to ask what else when his stomach made a rather loud and obvious sound. They both looked at the untouched box in front of him and he decided that they could probably talk while eating dinner.

Draco had only touched the mikey-wave however when she went “Whoa there!” and got up from her seat. Commandeering and bossy as always, Granger soon took control of the meal, leaving him to roll his eyes and take her previous seat. It wasn't his fault Muggle appliances still confused the hell out of him. The tube and the telly were very different from the washing machine.

She came back to his seat once the machine began its monotone whirring and let out a huff at his taking her seat. “I'm going to the loo, don't the microwave if it starts beeping alright?”

Draco nodded until she disappeared around the corner again. His curiosity perked back up the second he was left alone with his thoughts, and he wondered how exactly one could introduce the topic of what they were yelling about without upsetting her. He was considering the option of biding his time until he could just bully it out of Weasley when a tap at the window distracted him.

 _Tap tap_.

He looked to the window to see a familiar jet black owl impatiently tapping it's taking on the glass.

“ _No_!” Draco whispered aloud, even as he hurried to the window to accept the letter. How had they found him? He hadn't received anything since his move in with Hermione, and after nothing last week had dared to hope that it was over. Alas, it was not so.

Right he was about to overcome his deep feeling of dread and break the seal, he heard the footsteps drawing closer. Moving quickly, Draco hastily dropped the packed envelope into a random drawer and leaned on to the counter to cover it. He counted down to ten in his head to slow his heart rate. It seemed like everything was happening at once.

Hermione walked through the doorway of the kitchen and made a beeline to the mikey-wave. “Did you not think to turn it off?”

Draco instantly became aware of the loud blaring coming from the machine. He shrugged, making sure to appear casual. “You said not to touch it.”

Hermione took out the pasta and sighed. “That is true.”

“So what insight did Brown give you?” Draco asked once they were seated with full plates in front of them.

“Huh?” A beat passed and her thoughts caught up with the conversation. “Nothing much, mainly questions about how we managed to get together. Susan thinks it's a sex thing."

Draco nods in a valiant effort to not snort and burst out laughing, but Granger keeps going without notice.

“It's border on ridiculous though. I mean, in a changed world, would it be so unbelievable if we got together?”

“Yes.” Draco said, without hesitation.

Hermione sets down her fork. “Really? How so?”

Draco shrugs elegantly, picking at his mac and cheese. “I don't know. It'd just be a bit far fetched, considering we both run in different circles.”

Granger actually laughed at that. “Different circles, really? In an alternate world, years from the war and without prejudice, I'm sure that somehow we'd end up seeing each other through mutual friends.”

“Even so,” Draco presses his point, not completely sure how this topic had come up. “who says we'd end up in a relationship together?”

That seemed to stump her for a second, but she flared back up after a second. “The same way other people's start! Through shared interests and general attraction.”

“And how, pray tell, would we fit that description?”

“We already do, don't we? You can't deny the interests without conceding from every debate we've had about Arithmancy or Astronomy in the past week.”

She had him there. But, backtracking, Draco picked up on something. He smirked at her. “Then what about the _general attraction_? Do we already have that Granger?”

“Um,” she paused, swallowing and then looking down at her plate. “that's not what I said.”

“Yes it is.”

“I just meant that- well you're fairly good looking once you get past the pointiness,” -- _Thanks Granger_ \-- “and underneath the abrasive cover you've got a decent personality so- yeah,” she looked up at him finally, and Draco’s rising mirth dies down at her eye contact, and he feels _odd_ all of a sudden.

He clears his throat, and goes back to his food. “I guess it's not completely unbelievable, in that situation.”

She rolls her eyes, and the tension dissipates for now, although for the rest of the meal they glance over at each other hesitantly, as if for the first time in a long time, they didn’t know exactly what to make of each other.


	4. Exclusives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> almost late I know (and poorly edited shh), but I've still maintained the every other Friday schedule. idk about you but I'm proud of me. now let's see if you're as proud of this chapter.

_[December 18, 1998 5:50pm]_

The atmosphere in the room was humid, and to be honest, rather irritating, as Draco sat with his coat on in the heated flat. He looked to the pacing woman in front of him, and marveled at how she wasn’t overheating. Not to mention her mumbling in what seemed like a different language. He glanced at the clock.

“Granger? It’s nearing six, shouldn’t we be starting if we want to be early for Skeeter?”

They had finally responded to one of the calls for an exclusive two days ago, and for some reason Granger had demanded the interview be conducted by Rita Skeeter, the recently rehired reporter for the _Daily Prophet_. While Draco understood her reasoning behind choosing the most read wizarding newspaper in Britain, her picking the journalist that she seemed to detest was incomprehensible.

Granger nodded, but otherwise did not stop her motions. “It is, but I’m still trying to figure out something.”

“Of course you are.” Draco said heatedly, starting to peel off his heavy coat.

“No, don't!” Hermione stopped her pacing, and Draco stopped with the buttons to look up at her puzzled. “We're probably going to leave any minute now anyway, to get the advantage of location.”

He stood up, rolling his eyes. “Are you still on that Granger? Listen, Pandora is an elite wizarding restaurant, we won't be overheard there and Skeeter can't try anything tricky.”

She shook her head, clearly still taking him for an idiot. “Yes, but I want total security that she won't do anything tricky, and if we were in the Muggle world, she'd have no excuse but to put away that awful Quick-Quotes Quill of hers and take down what we're actually saying.”

“We can't just whisk her off to the Muggle World.” He paused, analyzing her last sentence. “Is this about how she twists whatever you say?” He stepped forward, smik on his face. “Cause I know a secret of hers that could come in handy if she starts acting up.”

Granger looked unimpressed. “Is this about her beetle Animagus?”

Draco sputtered, “How- What?” That had been _his_ blackmail!

Granger ruffled around in the beaded bag slung around her shoulder before pulling out a glass jar. “That’s what this is for, to remind her where she spent the entire summer of 1995.”

“Where she what?”

Taking advantage of his stunned silence, she pulled on his arm, towards the direction of the fireplace. “Now come on. you said it yourself, we want to be early.”

“I have… so many questions.” Draco got out, even as he ducked his head to fit in the closed space.

“We all do Malfoy, that's what makes life so difficult.” Granger bit out, handing him some Floo powder. “Okay, so remember, the Leaky Cauldron first, we need to have at least the effect of people seeing us walk to a fancy restaurant together.”

“Thanks mother.”

“Just go!”

He disappeared, and seconds later popped up in the famed pub and entrance to Diagon Alley. He brushed himself off as he got out, all the while trying to keep his head down. It wouldn't do to be spotted, especially without Granger in sight.

Thankfully the witch herself came up beside him seconds later, dusting herself off with a pinched yet determined expression. She led them to the brick entrance to the sure to be thriving shopping center.

“Alright.” She gave him a grim smile. “Time for hell.” She curled her arm around his slightly outstretched one, and he suddenly felt the normally intangible warmth of Hermione Granger up against him. It wasn't a wholly unsavory experience, and he sidled ever so closely to her as he returned her smile and faced the rest of the pub.

Their walk to the outskirts of Diagon Alley and the rather richer part of it ended with them at the giant sign proclaiming the name of the restaurant, _Pandora_ , as well as the rating, which was at four and a half.

“Okay so,” Granger broke off the chatter between them as she brainstormed subtle yet obvious ways for them to be intimate in front of Skeeter during the interview and he'd either laughed or suggested even more outrageous things to piss her off. Personally, he still thought it'd help them sell the idea if he serenaded her in the middle of the first course.

“I'm going to go inside and see if I can cancel the reservations the bug made. You stay out here so that if she shows up you can inform her that there's been a slight change of plans. Got it?”

“Wait- Granger I can't tell her that!”

It was no use, as she'd already hurried into the posh restaurant, the men opening the doors as automatically as the ones in a Muggle superstore. Draco was just stuck up here in the street.

Luckily there were enough people dashing about on the street to realize who exactly was standing awkwardly outside the establishment. He mulled this over from the sidelines when he was suddenly shoved hard. Catching himself before he completely fell to the ground, he turned back to the man who'd collided with him and impulsively bit out a few choice words.

Curiously, the man, and the woman on his arm standing quite close to him, didn't seem to react beyond a bewildered stare. Draco stared dumbly back. Finally realizing that he wouldn't be recognisable with the scarf roped around his neck and face, the man unwound it, revealing the face of Blaise Zabini. The woman beside him let out a huff before pushing her hood back, uncovering Pansy Parkinson’s miffed expression.

“Blaise? What are you doing here?” Draco asked, completely taken off guard at seeing his old best mates randomly on the street.

Zabini cleared his throat, looked askance at Parkinson before finally settling on answering. “Um, Pansy here came for a job interview. At Pandora.” He gestured to the fancy restaurant behind Draco.

Draco looked behind him to the posh restaurant and then back to Pansy. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, we’re serious Draco. We don't all have war hero girlfriends to get us places anymore.” Pansy cut through, condescending and utterly unimpressed with him. “Not to mention we've got both sides after us now.”

“What?”

Blaise was about to answer when Pansy elbowed him. Wincing, he shook his head. “I'm just here to escort her. It's still not safe out Draco, be careful.”

And with that cryptic warning, the both of them went into the restaurant just like that, as Hermione burst out a second later. Draco had a lot to think about.

“It didn't work. They said either we take the reservation now or move it, and to be perfectly honest I feel no need to eat here for a formal announcement let alone a regular lunch. Guess we’ll just have to make do with a secluded corner.” Pause. “Draco?”

He was still lost in thoughts of Blaise and Pansy. When was the last time he'd seen them? At Zabini Mansion, Draco placed it, the day before his trial began. They had been fiercely drunk, determined that  _they were not to have one sober thought the entire evening_ as Pansy had declared.

That one night had been bliss, of not thinking of anything heavier than the headache they were sure to have the next morning. They had talked about anything and everything, except the war. Draco places that as the day he admitted to the two of them that he didn't hate the “Golden Trio”. 

But now, their faces were so much more gaunt, and although they'd obviously been eating fine, the two of them had looked translucent and wasting away with something like fear. It reminded Draco of his seventh year, when he had had to stick together with Pansy to keep the younger Slytherins away from both the Carrows and Crabbe and Goyle in between the constant threat of battle engaging at any time. And while he'd seen it on Pansy, there was something more disconcerting about seeing the bleak expression on the usually jovial Blaise.

What was making them relive that sort of pain?

“Malfoy? Draco? Are you alright?”

Draco shook his head rapidly, clearing the negative thoughts. It would not do to space out now, when he _needed_ this. He took Granger’s hand and brought it up to his check, somehow hoping the exaggerated action would distract her from what had obviously been him going pale. “I'm just fine love.”

She was about to speak, and he knew by looking at her eyes that it hadn't worked, she was still worried for him, but a voice calling both their names interrupted their gaze, and they broke away to see a blonde women wearing bright scarlet robes looking between them with a tittering smile.

“Hello! Sorry I'm late, just had to attend a droll editor’s meeting, you know how it is. Have you been waiting long?” Rita Skeeter exclaimed, smiling brilliantly. Draco blinked, his mind still trying to keep up with her fast words.

The war seemed to have reinstated Rita Skeeter to her former glory, as she had once again rose up through the ranks of the _Daily Prophet_ with the abundance of things to write about. She looked much like she had back in their fourth year, when he’d given her the inside scoop on Potter.

Granger just cleared her throat, and put on a fake smile that was capable of winning awards. “No, we've just got here. Shall we go in?”

“Oh yes, absolutely. Thank you both for doing this exclusive with me, I'm honored to be the one to officially break the news of your engagement.”

“What?”

Skeeter didn't appear to hear her exclamation. “Now, let's go in shall we? It's a tad chilly.”

He and Granger shared a look at that, but followed the woman into the restaurant anyway.

As they stepped in and the host led them to a booth in the back, Hermione came to the mental decision that she'd have to remind Skeeter of who was in charge, disregarding how she'd caught her off guard outside.

She waited for everyone to sit down and for the host to leave before pulling the glass jar out of her bag and placing it noisily on the table. Skeeter, who had been grinning leeringly at Draco across the table, startled abruptly at the clink, and the grin melted slowly as she gulped visibly.

“Here's what's going to happen Rita.” Hermione started, keeping her voice low and dangerous. “You're going to take down what we say exactly, without any false allegations or mentions of hateful glances that didn't happen. Understood?”

Skeeter's looked from the jar to Hermione's face, and nodded quickly, although she looked affronted.

“You know what I was capable of back in fourth year, imagine me now. If I see one misquote…” she left the threat at that, satisfied that the journalist had got the message.

“Well,” Draco cleared his throat from beside her. “now that’s cleared up, what would you like to order Ms. Skeeter?”

Both women ignored him, and Skeeter, who had previously taken out her green Quick Quotes Quill put it away at Hermione’s threat, pulled out a regular black quill and some parchment. She seemed to regain some of her previous confidence at the grip of familiarity, and brought back that grin of hers.

“Alright, Mr. Malfoy I'll start with you.” at Malfoy’s nod she continued. “The wizarding world is so curious as to where you went after your trial, where you were sentenced to 18 months without magic. Is this correct?”

 _Starting heavy are we?_ Hermione was momentarily stunned at the weight of the first question, and she glanced at Draco immediately to check that he could handle it.

He seemed to be gritting his teeth, but otherwise the question appeared not to have an effect on him. In fact, after that second where the three of them had been completely still, a small self-deprecating smile rose on his face, and Hermione was hit with the memory of him at dinner with Harry and Ginny last week. It couldn’t be said that Malfoy wasn’t a talented actor.

“Um, well after I was sentenced, I took refuge in the Muggle world, mostly because every instance of others using magic was like salt in an open wound. It worked both as a way to go over how I'd gone wrong and also to develop new experiences.”

Skeeter nodded as she jotted this down. “And is this how you met Miss Granger?”

Malfoy looked at her then, and Hermione jolted into action, smiling at him warmly and reaching for his hand across the table. They were going with the same cover story they had with Harry and Ginny.

“Yes we met at the market if you could believe it!” he said, letting out a practiced chuckle. “I was having a bit of trouble with some of the technology these Muggles use and she stepped in, all hero-like.”

Hermione laughed, and to her surprise, the reporter on the other side of the table joined in, looking very much like she’d struck gold.

And, in a way both she and Hermione had. If Hermione and Malfoy played their cards right, this story would be the talk of the wizards game world for at least a week or two, and the demand for the both of them would increase to an exponential height. A height that'd be crucial for pushing their political agenda. 

* * *

_[December 18 1998, 7:30pm]_

Hermione pulls herself out of Draco’s arms, trying to keep her breathing steady and appear as unaffected as possible. They clutch at each other, joined together as if one unit. Their eyes meet unexpectedly, a rush of grey and brown, just as she was hanging onto his forearms, and for a second they just stare at each other, unable to look away, before the whole thing starts all over again and she's pulling away again.

“Nice shot, innit?” the rough voice of the _Prophet_ ’s photographer, Jeffrey Hayes asked, before taking back the photograph to look over again.

“Yes, very nice.” Granger nods beside him, giving the man a wan smile that Draco felt in his bones.

Their interview with Rita Skeeter had wrapped up half an hour ago, and she'd then dropped them off at the photo studio next door to get the announcement pictures done. They'd been here for thirty minutes already and had done only a few portraits before Draco's patience began to waver.

“Simply amazing, you've obviously got talent sir, but that should be enough for the paper shouldn't it?” he poked, hand already on Granger’s arm, ready to leave if given permission.

Hayes on the other hand looked scandalized at the suggestion. “Leave? Now? Oh no you mustn't sir! I've still got a handful of poses we could do-”

“While that sounds delightful Jeffrey,” Granger began, and from her slow blink Draco could tell that the exhaustion from stress over the interview was beginning to set in, now that the adrenaline had run out. “we're both had a pretty busy day. Besides, the shots you've taken already should be enough shouldn't they?”

Hayes shook his head. “They're gonna ask for more Miss, guarantee it.”

“Alright then, how about one more? That'll put you up to a grand total of five won't it? A good number. That's as much as we can do.” Granger settled, looking to him for confirmation. At his nod she looked back to the photographer with a smile.

“I suppose I can make do with that. But it'll have to be good.” Hayes contemplated a moment before he gestured for them to get back on the spot again. “Oh of course! The kiss!”

“What?” he and Granger exclaimed at the same time.

“A kiss, I can't believe I didn't comer it before! We'll need a nice proper kiss if this is going to be _real_ announcement interview.” Jeffrey explained, as if he had had experience with fake announcements before. Draco smirked at that to Granger before he realized what he was doing, only to find her holding back her mirth in front of him.

When they didn't make any other protest, Hayes got back behind the camera again and instructed them on what they were to do. “I just don't want to see too much tongue yeah, families read this over breakfast. I'm thinking PG. now feel free to start when you'd like.”

Draco hadn't looked away from Granger during the instructions, and she too had seemed trapped in his gaze. She seemed to take Hayes’ silence as a clue however, and stepped closer to him, and he instinctively placed a hand on her waist, adjusting his palm to the warm knit of her sweater. He looked down at her from this new angle, and observed from up close the minuscule freckles on her nose and the long eyelashes that framed her deep brown eyes.

“Didn't think to practice for this did you, Granger?” he whispered, trying to bait her, to at least regain some control over the situation of being so close to her, even as he inched toward her lips.

Although her cheeks reddened, she didn't argue like he expected, just smiling softly in a way he didn't think she'd ever direct at him. He found himself vaguely surprised at not minding it. “I guess I didn't think we'd be put on the spot like this, at least so soon.”

He was thinking of a reply, something witty enough to maybe smile like that again, when all of his thoughts, present or future, ceased to exist.

All that remained was the delicate hand on the back of his neck and the one on his cheek pulling him in, the nose bumping into his lightly, and the sweet and soft lips that glued and sucked him in. The sensations poured over him with no mercy, both cursing him and charming him all at once, in a fight that rose up in his chest.

Draco was in action seconds later, returning the kiss with the same fervor, pulling her into his chest just as she did he, wrapping arms around her without a thought. There was so much _feeling_ involved that hadn't been there seconds ago, and he felt himself dive in headfirst into it.

It was nothing like the mere peck last week in front of Weasley. That had been just a sliver of this, a brush with the iceberg he was now crashing into.

But just as it had begun, it ended as abruptly, with the pulling toward turning into pushing away, and he blinked, refocusing.

Hermione stood in front of him, but was now a whole foot away and was faced away from him in an almost perfect perpendicular angle as she focused on Hayes. Draco followed her example immediately, even though he succumbed to the urge to glance at her every few seconds.

“Amazing! The chemistry was just so- so… _unworldly_! I've never seen anything like it!” Hayes was announcing when Draco finally tuned back in. The bearded man was shaking his rapidly as he looked at the most recent photos in his hand. He looked up from his new masterpieces. “Would you like to see?”

Draco opened his mouth, to say _yes, I want to see just how much of that was imagined_ , but Granger cut him off just in time.

“No thanks Jeffrey, I'm sure it'll be a nice surprise to see it in the paper tomorrow morning.” And she gave the man a smile that Draco saw was as fake as this ruse.

“Oh no miss, this can't possibly appear in the paper. It's a bit too…” Hayes struggled to find a word, “implicit.”

Draco stopped at that, still looking to the woman looking as she struggled to keep from being outwardly upset next to him.

“Well, then I trust your judgement over what to pick. Mal- _Draco_ and I had better go, it's getting rather late.”

“But wait Miss-”

Granger ignored him, and made eye contact with Draco for the first time since the kiss. He might've imagined it, but her eyes softened ever so slightly. “Come on then.” she said before turning on her heel and exiting the room.

Draco and Jeffrey had a staring match for a good minute before he shook his head, knowing he'd have to go after Granger no matter what.

“Thank you Mr. Hayes, we'll be sending our payment through Ms. Skeeter. Have a good night.”

And with that Draco shot out of the studio after her. 

* * *

_[December 18, 1998 8:15pm]_

It had been a thoroughly awkward walk home, an almost complete from their banter-like conversation on the way here. But Hermione couldn't find it in her to look at him in the eye, or even talk to him so soon. And yet she clutched at his arm for the onlookers as they made their way to the Leaky.

It's just, that _kiss_. She had been the one to initiate it sure, but she didn't know where the intensity came from. Hermione only had two kisses in her lifetime to compare it to, the first one with Viktor and then with Ron, during the final battle. And although both of them had been wonderful, it was nothing compared to the rush she'd felt only a couple minutes before.  What had happened now that hadn't happened before?

She sneaked a glance at Malfoy as he helped her into fireplace with her floo powder. His face had returned to the one she'd seen that day at his ramshackle house, once again all sharp angles and stiffness that differed greatly from the softness she now knew it felt like. Her hands burned again at the memory.

She sat now on the couch, wrapped up in the throw Mrs. Weasley had made her for her birthday, watching the fire and analyzing what she and Malfoy’s next move in the press was. If anything but to keep her mind on what had happened in the studio.

She was interrupted from her seventh attempt to start from the beginning when a cool glass knocked at her fingers. Hermione looked to see Draco settling in next to her on the couch, his own tumbler of firewhiskey in hand.

“Thinking hard are we Granger?” he asked, taking a long sip, in the same manner as he had that first night he'd spent here. Hermione simply stared back at him, a new train of thought taking off.

Just how exactly had he become so familiar with her in the short space of two weeks? Even on the day they'd first met again, he'd acted slightly different from the bratty boy she'd known for 7 years. He had been snarky sure, but had been otherwise cooperative, which she'd never seen in him beforehand.

She interrupted his follow up question abruptly, scrutinizing him. “What happened after your trial Malfoy?”

The effect was instantaneous. The comfortable expression grew suddenly serious, and he regarded her before answering innocently. “I'm afraid we don't have to discuss that.”

Hermione sat up. “And why not? I'm just trying to help.”

“It wasn't in our agreement to spill our guts to each other.” Malfoy replied easily, despite the ruthless enunciation of his words that had her stomach dropping.

“What agreement?”

“The verbal agreement we made to convince the public and the Wizengamot that we were in a consensual relationship, in order to both save my arse and your large mouth. I don't know what you took my efforts for, but rest assured it's towards my gain in this alliance more than anything else.”

A silence fell between them, and for the first time since their reconnection, it was a tense one as each sized up their opponent. Malfoy glowed in the fireplace, his grey eyes practically molten silver, the flames dancing along his tensed jaw. Hermione might have been imagining it, but his eyes dropped casually to her lips, and the thought made the jelly in her stomach rise again.

He was the one who broke the quiet first. “Alright then. What's the plan for tomorrow, are we just going to deal with the press or…” he left the end of the sentence blank, clearly for her to fill in.

Noticing his decision to move on, she did just that. “We’ll need to do that, but before that we've got to make one more public appearance, to solidify in person to people that we're not just a rumor.”

Draco nodded. “So like another lunch?”

Hermione shook her head, her earlier frustration creeping back in. “No, we need something bigger than that, like a huge event that we could be seen at like a- oh!” She jumped up, face palming herself. How had she not remembered? She'd promised not to too!

“What?” Malfoy asked, intrigued.

“Ginny mentioned it last week and I said I'd come, but I'd forgotten since then! There's a ball tomorrow thrown by her Quidditch team, the Holyhead Harpies at the ice rink. It's a charity ball, so it'll look great for your character too!”

Malfoy seemed a bit skeptical.“A charity ball, at an ice rink?”

Hermione just brushed it off, the thrill of the sudden inspiration flowing through her. “Their captain, Gwenog Jones used to be an ice skater in Wales. I don’t know the details, but apparently it’s affected her life significantly, for a Quidditch star.”

“Fantastic, I’ll make sure to pick out my best dress robes.” Draco nodded, setting his drained glass on the coffee table and getting up to leave. He turned just before he disappeared down the hallway to the bedrooms.

“And Granger,” the mood changed somewhat, and Hermione’s excited shoulders fell a bit. “the only reason I stayed in the country after my trial was because of my mother. That’s as much as I’ll say.”

With one last meaningful look, he retreated out of sight, leaving Hermione with the last traces of excitement and the new old spark of curiosity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so finally a proper kiss and even an argument! Next chapter, we'll be seeing if either of those things have bearings on the ball. Thanks for reading! :)


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